


Dehumanized

by scrapbullet



Series: Teen Wolf Drabbles [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brave and Foolish Stiles, Crazy Uncle Peter, Drabble, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's blood on his hands. It's tacky when he taps his fingertips together, one-two, one-two, and Stiles tries not to think on how dark and red and slick Kate Argent's insides are, but it's hard, it really is, when Peter is elbow-deep in her abdomen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dehumanized

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poemwithnorhyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poemwithnorhyme/gifts).



There's blood on his hands. It's tacky when he taps his fingertips together, one-two, one-two, and Stiles tries not to think on how dark and red and slick Kate Argent's insides are, but it's hard, it really is, when Peter is elbow-deep in her abdomen. 

"Your pulse is racing," Peter muses. His fingers are deft as he works, skating over soft tissue and Kate jerks, blood bubbling from her mouth. "You're afraid. Don't worry, I won't hurt you. You've given me no reason to."

Kate judders. Peter plays her like an instrument, well-tuned and well-loved, and yet each measured motion belies the primitive fury of the beast within. There is an acrid scent on the air and Peter smiles, satisfied. 

He knows what he's doing. He's had six years to rot.

Stiles tastes bile, thick and heady on the back of his tongue. 

"I know you don't believe me, but this was necessary," Peter continues as Kate finally stills, wiping his sopping hands on his trousers. He looks at Stiles with eyes of Alpha red, stark with blatant consideration, and as he stands Stiles stumbles back, tripping over his own two feet like a newborn colt. "And you were so _helpful_ , too, leading her here. Quite obedient."

Being helpful was, and is, the last thing on Stiles' mind. 

"You'd do anything I ask of you, as long as she lives, hm?" 

Stiles closes his eyes, and breathes. He would. Oh god, he would. He already _has_. Anything, anything for her, _for Lydia_ , and his heart all but skips a beat as Peter presses his face into the crook of his neck, fangs dragging over vulnerable flesh; a threat and a terrifying promise. "You said-"

The rumbling laugh sounds like a growl, sounds like _predator_. "I changed my mind."

_Of course he did._

"She doesn't know what she's missing," Peter breathes, and the bite, _the pain_ , starbursts behind Stiles' eyelids, a sucker-punch that pulls the very air from his lungs. "Yes, I think you'd be quite perfect..." 

He drowns, and Peter holds him under.


End file.
